A Christmas Tale
by Mookie 821
Summary: He hated this time of the year. It wasn't the holiday itself that he hated. It was based on a fairy tale, but he tolerated the day's origins because it wasn't worth arguing over. Today, thought, just the thought of it made him irritable.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Christmas Tale

Author: Mookie

Rating: M

Warnings: Some angst

Spoilers: Entire series and EW.

Notes: You can thank my daughter for this, because after we watched this movie together on Christmas Eve, I confessed that I was a sucker for all variations of the same story. So I decided to write my own.

* * *

He hated this time of the year.

It wasn't the holiday itself that he hated. Although he'd never observed it, he'd known many others who had. Like most holidays, it was based on a fairy tale, but he tolerated the day's origins because it wasn't worth arguing over. Back when he might have enjoyed the debate, there hadn't been anyone worth the time to point out the flaws and inconsistencies in the tale. Today even the thought of listening to the same old story made him tired and irritable. Which brought him to the vellum edged card in his hand.

The seal of the vice foreign minister was unmistakable and for that reason alone he opened it, even though he knew without a doubt what it was. He had no desire to make merry this time of year, or any time, really, and the sooner Relena Peacecraft got that through her head, the better.

He tossed it in the wastebasket beside his desk and picked up the next envelope, slitting it open with his dagger.

The blade had been a wedding gift from Meiran's clan. He'd thought it lost long ago, but like the memory of his late wife, it was persistent. He didn't want to keep it, one more unnecessary reminder of his loss, but it was disrespectful to deliberately rid himself of it. He'd compromised by keeping it at his desk and using it for trivial tasks, to remind himself how meaningless his life had become since Nataku had been destroyed.

It didn't matter what the Preventers had accomplished, if anything. Without conflict, it was impossible to judge whether it was mere coincidence or if their police actions were the reason for the current reign of peace. To add insult to injury, Une had "rewarded" him with a promotion that left him chained to a desk all day.

It was better than what Po or Noin did with their flitting around the universe pretending to be heroes. At least he wasn't fooling himself any longer that any of his actions made a difference.

He heard the buzzer of the outside door, meaning the security guard at the entrance had just let the night janitor in. He glanced at the clock and scowled. It was later than he'd thought, and he still had all these diplomatic matters to review before passing them on to Commander Une or Vice Foreign Minister Peacecraft. That's all he was these days - a glorified secretary.

The door to his office opened, but he didn't bother to look up as he gestured to the wastebasket. "That's all there is," he grunted as he slit open another envelope, this one from the ambassador of Colony LX4338.

"Wufei," a familiar voice said. "I can't believe it's really you."

He looked up from his desk to see Quatre Winner standing before him. "Quatre," he said stiffly. "What brings you here?"

"I came to see if you needed a ride to Relena's Christmas party."

"You mean the vice foreign minister's party."

"No," Quatre shook his head. "I mean, yes, but..."

"Not interested," Wufei said, tossing the letter from LX4338 into Une's pile. "A bunch of people gathered around, currying favor with false promises and back pocket agendas. The vice foreign minister should know better than to waste treasury money that way."

"But it's Christmas, Wufei. It's good to show the world that we can all put aside our differences for one day. Sure, it's political, but that doesn't mean there isn't sincerity behind it."

"And that day just happens to be Christmas, because the television satellites can charge as much as they like just to broadcast it. You of all people should know it's about money, Quatre."

"No," another voice chimed in. "You mean _you_ of all people know it's about money."

Wufei didn't bother to look up this time. "I thought you and Noin were on L3."

"We just got back," Sally told him.

"Just in time to recruit Quatre to beg your case."

"Wufei," Quatre protested, but Sally stopped him.

"It's OK, Quatre," she said. "Wufei was bound to figure out I asked you to come. Despite his lack of manners, there's a reason why Une appointed him as Intercolonial Liaison."

"I really _would_ like it if you'd come, though, Wufei. We haven't seen you in years."

"That means I'm doing my job, then, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but..."

Wufei glanced up, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. To Sally, he looked a little like a cartoon owl, despite the severe expression, but Quatre wasn't seeing the humor in it and had shut his mouth.

"I do wish you'd come," he said softly.

"And I wish to remain undisturbed, but some people," he glared at Sally, "seem to think my requests are entirely optional."

"Well, we'll be there if you change your mind-"

"I won't."

"Still, I hope you have a merry Christmas."

Wufei saw Sally raise her eyebrows slightly, and for that, he took it out on Quatre. "Bah, humbug."

Quatre started to laugh, thinking Wufei was joking with him, but the laughter died in his throat as he saw how pissed Wufei really was. "The offer stands," he said one last time, and with a quick glance at Sally, he left.

"Why are you still here?" Wufei asked.

Sally walked over to his desk and sat on the edge of it. She knew he hated that and was doing it just for that reason. "For someone who doesn't care about the holidays one way or another, you're taking it out on this correspondence."

He saw the uneven edges where he'd failed to slit the blade all the way through, and he yanked the letter out of the envelope angrily.

"If you really want me to have a merry Christmas, you'll leave me the hell alone."

"That's not being merry," Sally said stubbornly. "That's wallowing in self pity."

That angered Wufei more than anything else, and he flung the dagger down on his desk and got to his feet. "I do not pity myself," he said between gritted teeth. "I should pity you for your illusions. Some day your rose colored glasses are going to get you and your partner killed. War does not take a holiday."

She reached out to touch his arm. "Only time will tell." She stood up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "We were friends once, Wufei. You may have forgotten that, but I haven't."

He looked back down at the pile on his desk until he heard the buzz of the door as Sally left the building. He stayed a quarter hour longer, just to be sure she was truly gone. He'd have stayed longer, but his eyes were tired and even with his glasses, it was hard to focus on the small print.

He grunted at the security guard who wished him a merry Christmas.

Christmas. A ridiculous time of the year, when people let their guard down and pretended to have good will toward others. At least he was honest in his distaste and he was on his guard all the time. He might be nothing more than a desk jockey, but at least someone near Une was still paying attention. Just because the last war had ended thirteen years ago didn't mean a thing, not while mobile suits were still being redesigned and manufactured.

Idiots, all of them, even Heero and Trowa, who had seemed the most likely to stay on their guard. Trowa had gone back to work with his sister, which was a waste of perfectly good talent. Wufei assumed Trowa was still a part of it, especially now that it was known as Bloom's Traveling Circus. Like any woman, Catherine's influence had made Trowa weak.

Heero he'd expected even more from, but he was even worse than Trowa, easily manipulated whenever Relena called. It was one thing to obey a summons from the vice foreign minister, but it had nothing to do with her position and everything to do with her as a woman. Heero was the worse of them all as far as that woman was concerned. At least Quatre hadn't let the Catalonia bitch lead him astray. From what Wufei had heard, Quatre was keeping his friends close and his enemies closer, for Dorothy was serving on the board of directors at Winner Enterprises.

It might still blow up in his face, but Quatre would be more likely to see it coming.

He remembered Quatre's plea to join them at Christmas, and decided that Quatre was no better. He didn't need a woman acting as his Delilah; he was soft hearted enough on his own.

He noticed little that went on around him as he walked home to his apartment. He'd taken quarters close to the Preventers building in a high security building with keypad locks and sentry alarms. He chose one with a single parking lot rather than a parking garage with many doors leading to the building, providing multiple points of entry. He owned a car, but rarely used it; he was usually at work and when he needed to stop for groceries, there were plenty of shops between work and home. He kept a vehicle on the premises in case he needed it for a hasty escape.

The leather gloves he wore were more for appearance than for warmth, but the short distance he had to walk didn't require much more than that. His hands were cold nonetheless and he fumbled with the keypad as he entered his pass code.

The red light flashed, indicating he'd entered incorrectly, and he removed one glove to try it again. After his second failed attempt, a vid screen emerged, only instead of the concierge, all he could see was snow. He hesitated before entering a third time, not wanting the concierge to offer to help him as if he could not remember his own security code.

The interference cleared, and Wufei spared only a glance at the screen before touching the keypad. It was enough, and Wufei's hand dropped to his side.

"No," he whispered. "No. You're dead."

The screen went blank for a moment, then the concierge's face appeared. "Sir?" he asked with polite disinterest. "Do you need assistance?"

Wufei punched in his code a third time. "No," he said as the door buzzed. He yanked open the door as the screen slid back into place, and he hurried down the hall to his apartment door. He was obviously overtired from staring at a computer screen for most of the day, and Quatre and Sally hadn't helped. What he needed was a drink.

It was too bad he didn't keep any spirits in the apartment. Liquor was for weaker men who could not face reality. He made himself a pot of tea instead.

It was a good thing that he'd done so, because the lights in the apartment flickered and went out, and when the power was restored, the electric heat was slower to respond. He took the cup of tea with him to bed where he could cup his hands around it for warmth. The silk pajamas he wore to bed would normally keep him warm, but tonight his bed was like ice. The clock told him it was only 7:00 in the evening, but it felt much later than that.

He pulled the blankets up to his chest and took another sip of tea before setting it on the nightstand and picking up his book. His toes were curled beneath the covers, it was so cold, and he could not focus on a single word before him. He pushed his glasses up on top of his head and picked up the teacup again, leaning over the steam and trying to convince himself it was making any difference in how cold he was. He would have to call the maintenance office, but since it was Christmas Eve, he'd end up getting their answering service. This was just one more reason why he hated the holidays.

He'd not realized right away that he'd dozed off with the cup in his hand, not until the creaking sound woke him. He looked around him, disoriented, as if he'd never seen the furnishings in his bedroom before. The cup tipped, and a spot of tea splashed on his hand, waking him fully. He set the cup down with trembling hands and looked about him. There was someone else in the room. He could see perfectly well in the distance, but the intruder was distinctly out of focus. He wished he'd kept the dagger with him now, but he would fight to the death with his bare hands if it came to that. He picked up the teacup again, in case he had to fling the hot liquid in his enemy's face.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Wufei Chang, I am here to bear a message."

Wufei shook his head. It was bad enough he'd imagined he'd seen Treize Khushrenada's face in the vid screen outside, now he was imagining the man here in his bedroom. "Ridiculous. You're dead, and even if you weren't, you would not be given such a trivial task."

"It is not as trivial as you may think," Treize's ghost told him. "It is a matter of more than just life and death. Death is easy."

Wufei wanted to retort that Treize should be thanking him, in that case, but he could not do it He felt the same despair he'd felt when Treize had died. He'd lost a worthy adversary but Treize had been more than that. He'd been a man to admire, one who put everything behind his beliefs. They did not agree in many things but they were both honorable, or at least that's what Wufei had aspired to.

He closed his eyes. When he was younger and had been plagued by nightmares, he'd sometimes be able to drive them away with conscious thought. Perhaps he'd be able to do the same now.

"You do not believe I am real."

"You're not," Wufei replied, and then wondered why he was answering aloud.

"I am just as real as you are."

Wufei opened his eyes. Treize's form was translucent, and Wufei could see the dresser behind him, right through his body. "I doubt that very much."

"What makes you doubt that I could be here before you, speaking as I am right now?"

Wufei rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. "Overtired. I'm overtired, my eyes are suffering from computer strain, and I didn't eat lunch today."

"Or supper," Treize reminded him helpfully.

"I'm hallucinating," Wufei decided. "No, I would not. I'm still asleep." He pinched his arm. "I felt that. It's obviously possible to feel pain in a dream."

"I am here, Wufei, and I do have a message for you. Pretending otherwise isn't going to change that." He picked at an imaginary speck of lint on his translucent sleeve. "There is much I could have accomplished, Wufei, had I lived. There is much you have accomplished since my death. However, there is so much more to be done."

Wufei sat up straight, forgetting his disagreement over Treize's existence. "That's what I've tried to tell her! Commander Une does not listen!"

Treize held up his hands placatingly. "You misunderstand completely. That's not what I meant." He looked past Wufei, at the clock on the nightstand, and sighed. "I don't have much time left. I have come to tell you that you will be haunted by three spirits."

Wufei shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"The first," Treize continued as if Wufei had not interrupted him, "will visit when the clock strikes one." He looked over at the digital alarm clock and sighed. "It will appear at 1:00 in the morning. The second one you will see the next night, at the same time, and the third before the last stroke...that is, at midnight." He looked at Wufei meaningfully. "Without their help, Wufei, you will be unable to escape the path that lays before you."

"What path? Your path?"

Treize shook his head. "I am not here to serve as an example, merely a messenger. I can beseech you to heed your visitors well, but beyond that, your fate is your own. You've always known that, however."

"Riddles!" Wufei exclaimed. "You disrupt my peace to say nothing at all!"

"One o'clock, Wufei," Treize reminded him. His form began to dissipate. "Do not remain ignorant out of stubbornness. Farewell, Wufei."

"No!" cried Wufei. "We have not concluded things between us! It was not supposed to end the way it did!"

There was nothing more he could say, because Treize's apparition was gone, if it had ever been there at all.

Wufei set the teacup down in its saucer and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp. He hesitated. Cursing his own weakness, he yanked on the chain, and the room became dark. He punched his pillow to arrange it to his satisfaction and lay down. The only reason he pulled the covers up to his chin was because it was still quite cold in the room.

Despite all that had taken place, it wasn't long before he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Wufei never set his alarm clock. He was too accustomed to waking at the same time every day, and hearing a loud incessant beeping was nothing that could start anyone's day off on the right note. It was, therefore, a shock in more ways than one when he first heard it, and it took a while for it to penetrate his dreaming mind. He was at work and the phone began to ring, but answernig it did absolutely nothing, and he punched at the OFF button several times to no avail. When he was awake enough to figure out the source of the noise, the beeping had grown louder, and he fumbled with the switch for a while before it finally ceased. He wiped his hand over his face and was about to turn over and go back to sleep when he noticed the time.

12:59.

He stared at the numbers, knowing he had no more than sixty seconds to go, and probably less. A shiver ran down his spine the moment the numbers changed to 1:00, but he refused to be a coward. He turned on the lamp, threw the covers off, and shoved his feet in his slippers, as ready as he could be. He looked around, in all corners of the room, but there was nothing to be seen.

"As I suspected," he muttered. "Nothing more than a dream."

He'd just settled himself into bed again and had turned off the light when the room was illuminated again. This time the source came from a single candle, suspended in midair, and it shed enough light that he could see a swirling mist surround it. It seemed to take quite a while for it to actually do anything, but a quick glance at the clock showed it was no more than five past the hour.

"You're late," he said sourly, as a vaguely human shape began to appear.

"No, Wufei, I'm not. You didn't always set your clock five minutes ahead. I wonder why you feel the need to do so now."

Wufei knew, even before the ghost's face was visible, whose voice it was that haunted him now. "No," he whispered, choking off a sob. "Meiran, I'm sorry."

She approached the bed, the candle lighting up her face. "You know there is little room in life for regrets, husband. I have none for myself, for I died fighting for a cause, as I know you would have done many times."

_Husband._ Meiran used to call him that when he'd try to talk sense into her. To him, he was doing his duty, but in Meiran's eyes, he was acting as her lord and master. Acknowledging him as her husband had been her way of letting him know that she was not his property but her own person, for all the good it did her in the end.

"Meiran," he said again, reaching his hands out as if to touch her face. She took a step back and shook her head. "Do not," she told him. "There is no substance to what you see before you."

He ignored her and took another step closer. "You have more substance than anyone I know." He tried to cup her face, but as she'd told him, there was nothing there. His hand passed through it completely, and all he could feel was a bitter cold.

"I had substance, when I was alive," she said. "I am no longer your wife."

"Of course," Wufei said, rubbing his hand against his thigh to warm it. "You are one of the ghosts, sent to haunt me."

"Haunt is a relative term, Wufei."

"Again with the riddles."

Meiran rolled her eyes. "You always were a stickler for plain speaking. Let me be frank, then. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Of course," Wufei said, shaking his head. "What else would you be?"

Meiran frowned, as if he were not following the script. When he remained silent, she brandished the candle toward him. "Not of long past," she said, sounding impatient, "but of your past."

"Well, then," Wufei said, grabbing the robe that was hung on his bedpost. "Let's take a walk down memory lane."

Truthfully, he was scared to the core, and if the ghost had appeared as anyone but Meiran, he might have trembled visibly. She might not be Meiran in the flesh, but in spirit she was certainly the young woman he remembered. Perhaps it was not a dream but insanity that was upon him. When she touched his arm, it was just as icy as when he'd tried to caress her cheek, and he glanced down at the spectral fingers.

Unfortunately it also meant he could see the floor, or the lack thereof. In all his time traveling in outer space and piloting Nataku at incredible speeds, he'd never felt a sense of vertigo the way he did now, and he attempted to take hold of her arm, even knowing there would be nothing there. He had to close his eyes, overcome with dizziness, and when he felt his knees touch something solid and cold, he opened his eyes. He looked up, to ask where they were now, but Meiran was no longer there.

The smell of lemon, vinegar, and fresh paint assailed his nostrils, he knew immediately where he was, just as he knew who he would see the moment he turned his head.

He'd expected to see his mother. He had not expected to see himself as a young boy, dutifully wiping down the hearth with a rag soaked with his mother's homemade cleaning spray. His mama stood nearby, scrubbing the mantle with a matching rag.

"We are almost done," his mother told him. The sound of his native language from his mother's lips hit him hard. He'd assumed he'd forgotten how to speak it, having used it so rarely since then, but the familiarity of these surroundings brought him right back to the moment he was now watching.

"And then may I have lunch?" the younger Wufei asked, without pausing in his task.

"And they you may have lunch," she said affectionately. She bent down to ruffle his hair, which was long enough to just brush his collar.

He remembered that day. He and his mother had been preparing the house for the upcoming New Year. He and his mother would clean the house from top to bottom; his father would brush the door and window frames with a fresh coat of red paint, and there were always new shoes to look forward to. Wufei looked forward to his new shoes each year, for it not only symbolized a fresh start, but it meant he was that much closer to being a man. There was nothing quite like taking those first few steps in his new shoes; he'd forgotten the joy such a simple thing had once brought.

He was struck with a wave of homesickness and an acute sense of loss. The worst of it was how sadly misdirected those feelings were. Instead of sorrow for his family and home, he felt the loss of anticipation, of having something to look forward to, that this young Wufei had.

He was in a foul mood when Meiran reappeared beside him as a result. "I thought you were the Ghost of Christmas Past," he lashed out. "This is not Christmas."

"Christmas does not need to be represented on a given day of the calendar year," she said with a shrug. "I'm not here to debate the semantics. But since you've so astutely pointed out that we're revisiting things in the spirit of Christmas, let us move on."

The next place they stopped was a prison cell, where his fifteen-year-old self was lying on the floor, eyes closed, trying to ignore the ramblings of his cellmate.

"Can you imagine?" Duo said, holding his hands out about two feet in front of his stomach. "Getting something that big down a chimney!"

Wufei-the-prisoner sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. "No, I can't. Nor can I imagine a moment's peace in here."

"Seriously?" Duo was incredulous. "We've been in here for what, weeks now?"

"Days."

"I'll be damned," Duo said, scratching his chin. "Seems so much longer. Do you know why?" He didn't wait for Wufei to answer. "Because all we have to do in here is sit and wait for something to happen!"

Wufei lifted his hands, showing Duo the cuffs that bound them. "Get these off me and we can stay in shape with a sparring match."

Duo actually dropped to one knee and examined the cuffs carefully. "Shit," he said. "I would, but ya see," he flung his head so his braid flipped over his shoulder and hung down over his chest. "It seems I lost my picks."

"You keep them in your hair?" Wufei had a grudging admiration that the other pilot would even think of such a thing.

Duo grinned at him and then scooted over to sit next to him against the wall.

"So since we have nothing else to do, come on," he cajoled. "Something. Anything. Categories, charades, knock-knock jokes. Oh! I know! We can come up with a list of reasons why they should have picked one of us instead of Heero to test out that mobile suit!"

That's what they'd ended up doing. Wufei had been completely honest with his reasons, but Duo had come up with increasingly ridiculous ones, right up until Heero had been tossed back into the cell with them.

"Still not Christmas," he pointed out to Meiran.

"Fine, Wufei. Fine. You want to see Christmas? Here it is." She made a sweeping gesture with the candle. The light was bright and yellow and blinded Wufei to his surroundings. He knew they'd changed only because of the rhythmic thumping sound off to the side.

"Wufei, oh Wufei, please!"

He didn't need to see to know where he was now.

Sally was on her knees in the bed. Wufei was behind her, his hand covering one of her breasts, and he was nipping her neck lightly. She arched her back as he thrust. It was a technique he'd learned. Despite a long period of celibacy, Wufei was not ignorant. He read a lot, and some of those books had been far more informative than he could have imagined. He'd never expected to use any of it, not until he and Sally had returned from that mission.

Five years ago, they'd finished a major undercover operation. During that time, they'd nearly had their cover blown, been involved in a lengthy gunfire exchange, and at the end of it all, it had somehow just happened.

Wufei had never been a fan of pornography and would never consider video taping his moments with any woman. That didn't mean that he wasn't affected now, watching. He knew exactly what he, the Wufei in bed with Sally, was doing. Her head was thrown back with her hair brushing Wufei's shoulder, and she gripped his arm as she moaned. He'd been completely unprepared for the intensity of the physical sensations.

He climaxed right away, and she shuddered. It wasn't until his heartbeat was back to normal that he fully realized what he'd done.

It hadn't stopped him from fucking her three more times that night, in different positions. If anything, he'd rationalized it was a single misstep in their working relationship, and he'd wanted to get as much out of this night as he could, before facing reality. It hadn't happened again; he made sure of that. When they'd gone back to work, he'd requested another partner. If Une suspected why, she'd never asked.

Watching it now, though, was different. He could see the expression on Sally's face that he'd missed when he'd been behind her, and the way the corners of her mouth turned to a smille when the silence was broken by the sound of Wufei's stomach growling loudly. He remembered the way she'd turned to kiss him, and how he'd let her, and how they'd spooned together for a while before he'd flipped her onto her back and they'd done it again.

This was that in-between time, when they were lying together. Sally's hair was becomingly mussed, and she was dragging a fingernail up and down his forearm as he held her close.

At first she'd been murmuring his name softly, and her lips were barely moving, but now he saw her mouth the words, _the_ words, and he felt as if he'd been kicked in the balls. She'd never said them to him aloud, and had apparently not wanted to, but she'd said them. More than once, this night, he wondered if what he was watching now was the way it had really happened.

"Oh, it is," Meiran's voice said in his ear. He whirled around, his face blazing hotly as he remembered Meiran had been the one to bring him here. She waved her hand, the one not holding the candle, around. "Relax, Wufei. I wasn't here watching it with you, and I'm not jealous, if that's what you were worried about. You and I never really did get to the good parts, did we?"

She was referring to the embarrassment of their wedding night. Arranged marriage or not, Wufei had still been a young man with raging hormones. He'd been more than eager, right up until he'd tried to claim his marital rights. Back then he'd known nothing of foreplay at all, and Meiran had been just as stubborn at wanting to get it over with, but the lack of proper lubrication and the pressure of consummating their marriage did nothing to fan the flames of passion. Inevitably, he wasn't "up" to the task much longer after that, and no matter how they both still tried, they had no more success than if they'd been using a water snake as a sex toy.

"At least you learned something since then," Meiran said, and then he felt the cold touch on his arm, and closed his eyes as the floor fell away.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in his bed. The weight of the covers seemed incredibly heavy when he attempted to fling them from his body, and his eyes would not focus on the digits of the clock, and he finally gave up struggling and fell deep asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When he next awoke, he was overly warm and felt suffocated by the blankets. The heat had apparently kicked on at sometime during the night. When he pushed them away from his face, the room was still dark, and he fought with the covers some more until he could swing his legs to the side.

He thought it was early morning but the clock said but 1:00. At first he thought it had stopped during the night, but if that were the case it would blink 12:00, and furthermore, he'd seen with his own eyes the clock read 1:05 just the previous morning. If not for the lack of sunlight coming through the windows, he'd have thought he slept through the night and into the afternoon.

He shivered despite the warmth in the room, and watched the clock with dread as it read 1:01, then 1:02.

He thought of getting dressed at 1:03, but had only managed to get his trousers on when the clock read 1:05. He simply stood there waiting as the expected gray mist began to swirl.

"Who will _you_ appear as?" he asked, although more to himself than to the unearthly visitor. He finished unbuttoning his pajama top and tossed it on the bed. After the memories Meiran's ghost had dredged up, he was feeling antagonistic toward this one, and just wanted to get it over and done with.

It took him a while to recognize the man's face, for he'd never met him in person, but he supposed there was some sort of reason why the late Vice Minister Darlian, Relena's adopted father, had been chosen as the face of the second emissary. He was a fine example of why Relena was a sitting duck, though, with her complacent pacifist attitude. Une, in her slightly more bloodthirsty days, had cut Darlian down in the prime of his career, and all he'd been doing was meeting with delegates and senators.

"Come on, now, young man," Minister Darlian chided. "Now that you've looked your fill, allow me to introduce myself."

"Vice Foreign Minister Darlian," Wufei said. "This is a surprise."

Darlian frowned at him. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, and you'd do well to remember that."

He beckoned for Wufei to approach. When Wufei reached for his shirt, Darlian clucked in disapproval. "You've no need for that where we're going. Just grab hold of my sleeve."

Wufei grabbed hold of his sleeve, as he was told, but in a fit of defiance, he also reached for the shirt he'd been about to put on. He ignored the disapproving look the spirit gave him when they arrived at their destination and finished getting dressed. He did have the good sense to button it quickly, not noticing that he'd missed one until he reached the bottom. He didn't dare fix it, however, because Darlian's ghost was standing there, staring at his bare wrist as if a watch was there. Wufei got the hint and he bowed his head, feeling chastened.

"Don't look so glum, young man," Darlian said, sounding more jovial than the man had likely ever been in life. "It's a party, after all."

It was Relena's party, naturally, the one he'd been so adamant about not attending. Because of Quatre's interference earlier, Wufei rather expected to him chatting with Relena, but she was standing with Commander Une instead. Wufei shot a quick glance over at the ghost, but he was once again alone. He was relieved that there would be no last minute retribution penciled into their agenda for today. Wufei turned his attention back to the women. Despite their working relationship, he'd expected Une to be the last person Relena would want to spend her leisure time with, but they were laughing and to all appearances seemed to be getting along just fine.

Quatre was standing about six feet away with the other three former pilots. Duo was telling a story, and at one point, he held his hands out in front of his belly, forming a beach ball shape. He then slapped himself in the head as if he'd just confessed to a terrible faux pas. The others laughed, even Heero, and that's the only reason he saw it. He was staring at Heero in disbelief when he noticed Heero's hand resting on Duo's back, right between the shoulder blades. He didn't miss seeing Heero's hand slide down until it was settled comfortably near the base of Duo's spine.

Wufei turned his back to them, wondering what the hell he'd just witnessed.

The ghost hadn't reappeared yet, so there was obviously more for Wufei to see here. He discovered there was no need for him to walk across the room, for the moment he turned his head toward Sally and Lucrezia Noin, it was as if he was standing there right next to them. A passing servant offered a tray of champagne to them. Sally accepted one, but Lucrezia shook her head, placing her hand on her abdomen.

Wufei's eyes widened, especially as Zechs Merquise approached. Noin's eyes lit up, and although the joy was less obvious on the Lightning Count's face, there was no mistaking that he was just as happy about it. Sally tipped her glass toward the two of them in congratulations, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Neither Zechs nor Noin seemed to notice when Sally left to mingle with the other guests.

This time when Wufei turned his head, he found himself viewing a bathroom from the other side of the looking glass. Trowa was seated on the toilet and Quatre was standing over him, the fingers of one hand holding Trowa's eye open.

"I don't see anything," Quatre said, turning Trowa's head this way and that. "Are you sure you still feel something in it?"

"Hang on," Trowa said, grasping Quatre's wrist and moving his hand away. He blinked a few times. "It's hard to say. It still hurts, but not as much."

"It could be a little sore from where it hit you," Quatre said, and he gripped Trowa's cheeks with one hand to tilt his head back. "I just want to be sure."

Trowa looked more amused than in pain at this point. "Let me know when you're sure, Doctor."

Quatre released him and crossed his arms over his chest. "This is the thanks I get." He tried to look petulant, but the corners of his mouth refused to turn downward.

Trowa reached out to pull Quatre's hand into his lap. "No," he said, tugging a little bit. "_This_ is the thanks you get."

Wufei didn't want to be around to see what was going to happen next, so he turned his head again. The room spun around, everything was a blur, and he was sure he'd find the Ghost of Christmas Present standing next to him again.

He was wrong.

He was outside, but he felt no cold. Sally was there, too, leaning against an ornamental pillar. It did not look as though she'd had any of her champagne, but then he had no way of knowing if that was the same glass she'd had earlier. She tipped her head back, and the moonlight cast half her face in shadow.

"Sally?" Relena asked. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just enjoying the view."

"Do you mind if I keep you company?"

Sally pushed away from the pillar and smiled at her. "Not at all."

Relena stood next to her. Her coat was an almost glowing white, a contrast against Sally's serviceable olive colored one. "There's magic in the air tonight. Do you feel it?"

Sally tipped her head to one side. "It's Christmas. There's always magic at Christmas."

"Do you really believe that?" Relena asked. "Not in magic, but that there's something about Christmas that brings out the best in people?"

"Ho ho ho," Duo's voice boomed from the doorway. "Are you ladies working on being on the Naughty list, or the Nice?"

"I don't know," Sally replied. She lifted her glass to her lips and drained it in one go. "The Naughty list is often so much more fun."

Heero, who had come out right behind Duo, had opened his mouth to say something, but Duo's elbow in his ribs stopped him. Duo raised an eyebrow, Heero mouthed something at him, and Duo bit down on his lip to keep from laughing. He wagged a finger in Heero's face, a promise that there would be retaliation of sorts later.

Trowa and Quatre joined them next, followed by Zechs and Noin. It was quiet for all of three and a half seconds, before the sound of excited chatter announced the arrival of Commander Une and Mariemaia.

"Mother, you have no idea how hard it was to keep this a surprise from you. You always seem to know everything!"

"A surprise it was, Maia. I still can't quite believe it." Une wasn't just smiling, she was beaming. There seemed to be a lot of that going around tonight.

There was no question what the excitement, or the surprise, was, considering the size of the rock on Mariemaia's fourth finger, but still she asked Une, "May I share the news?"

Une nodded, and everyone gathered around to ooh and ahh over the ring, and then took turns hugging mother and daughter. Relena wiped a tear from her cheek, and Zechs swiped his thumb over Noin's cheek. At least Noin could blame her hormones; Wufei wasn't sure why Relena was so overcome by the news.

A servant appeared with a fresh tray of champagne, likely summoned by Relena while everyone was still congratulating the newly affianced young woman. This time everyone, including Noin, accepted a glass. Une lifted hers in a toast and the others followed suit.

"To Mariemaia and Daniel," she said, her eyes shining brightly. "Your father would be pleased." Her voice cracked slightly, and Sally moved to stand next to her, putting her hand on Une's shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze.

"To Treize," Sally said, and as everyone lifted their glasses again, she added, "and to Wufei, who could not join us here tonight."

Not everyone seemed to share Sally's sentiment, and there were several sets of raised eyebrows, but no one outright disagreed with her.

It wasn't until Une and Mariemaia went back inside that Duo asked bluntly, "Where is the Grinch, anyway?"

This time Heero elbowed Duo, who winced and then glared at Heero.

_What?_ he mouthed, only to have Heero tip his glass slightly in Sally's direction.

Sally was looking up at the moon again. "He's celebrating the holiday in his own way."

"Yeah, alone and miserable," Duo muttered, followed by a much louder "ow!" when Heero stepped none-too-gently on his foot.

Quatre, ever the diplomat, raised his glass again. "To those near and far, but close in our hearts."

"Here, here," Trowa murmured in agreement.

"It's getting chilly out here, and the orchestra should be ready to play," Relena said, after allowing them a moment to sip their champagne. "I hope you came with your dancing shoes."

There was a lot of good-natured ribbing about that, and they all followed Relena inside. Sally paused in the doorway. Wufei started when she looked right at him, but of course she could not see him. She raised her glass again in a silent salute, drained it in two swallows, and set it down on the stone ledge outside. "Merry Christmas," she murmured and disappeared from Wufei's sight.

"If you'd come, you could have worn your dancing shoes."

Wufei held up a hand to silence Darlian, Ghost of Christmas Present. "Have you come to take me elsewhere, or to return me home?"

"I've come to show you nothing more than what is. This is the present, your present, true, but not yours alone."

In the distance, the clock in the church tower began to chime, but then the ground fell away, and he was once again, back in his bedroom. He was in the process of fastening his shirt when the digital clock's face glowed 12:05, and he felt a blast of cold air as surely as if he were standing outside unclothed. He looked up apprehensively to see a tall hooded figure standing in front of the closet door.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come had arrived, right on time.


	4. Chapter 4

The phantom did not assume the visage of anyone Wufei knew; in fact, it didn't resemble anyone human at all. He tried to peer beneath its hood, but all he could see was a vast emptiness. Just being near the ghost made him feel more despair than he'd ever felt in his entire life. Not even Meiran's or Treize's deaths came close. With the previous two spirits, he'd been able to speak with them and even lash out at them in fear or anger. The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come did not invite any sort of interaction, and that sent an even bigger chill through him.

If he were to look for a silver lining, there could not be anything worse in his future than the melancholia of this moment, spent in the company of such a specter.

Or could there?

Wufei wasn't sure what he was to do now. He hesitated at doing anything to provoke the spirit, but his visitor was offering nothing. It was a stalemate unless one of them did something first, and it was clear just which of them it had to be.

"You are the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come," he said, hating the quaver he heard in his voice. He straightened his spine and clasped his hands behind his back. "You are here to show me not what has already transpired, but what will take place in days to come."

There was no reply, although he thought he might have detected a ripple in the cloak, as if the spirit had nodded.

Wufei tugged on his shirt, where the missing button had created an unsightly gap at the middle of his chest, and he took a deep breath.

"Lead on, then. Please."

The ghost moved slowly as it turned toward the closet door. Since it did not beckon for Wufei to take hold of its robe, he followed along, keeping as much distance between them as he dared. The spirit did no more than raise its hand and the closet door opened wide, creating a wind tunnel that pulled Wufei in, making him brush right up against the flapping cloak. He shivered and hugged himself as he walked through the doorway. It was black as ink inside the space where his closet should have been. Wufei could hear nothing more than his own breathing, for the spirit made not a sound. When they finally emerged, Wufei blinked several times and raised a hand to shield his eyes. Even on a day as overcast and dismal as this, the sun was bright compared to the encompassing darkness of the passageway.

The silence was broken as a dog barked. When it ran past Wufei, he shied away, for the beast was as large as a bull. It wasn't until he looked around the street that he realized it wasn't that the dog was oversized, but Wufei who had shrunk down to the size of a rat.

He had no time to ponder the significance of this, because he could hear people talking. The voices appeared to be coming from the man and woman shoveling snow from their front walk.

"What was the cause of death?" the woman asked. She had wide hips and appeared middle-aged.

"No one is saying just yet," the man, likely her husband, replied.

"Oh! That means it was in the line of duty!"

"Or," a third voice chimed in as a neighbor came out to get his paper, "it means that they only want us to _think_ that, and that they are trying to come up with a feel good story just in time for the holidays."

"Either way, it's very sad," the first voice said. "A family somewhere is mourning the loss of a loved one."

"Nah," the neighbor said. "They don't much like to have agents with families. The bereaved start demanding answers and expect full investigations."

The wife stuck her shovel in the snow and put her hands on her hips, obviously ready to argue further, but the husband made the cuckoo gesture near his head and she laughed, clapping her hands over her mouth to stifle it.

The neighbor fanned his newspaper in their direction and went back inside. The woman's hands dropped from her face.

"You are _terrible_," she shrieked, but she did not seem to really think so.

There was nothing more to glean from that conversation, so Wufei trudged through the snow, doing his best to avoid the large puddles of slush.

"Who died?" he wondered aloud, even though he had a sinking feeling that he knew the answer to that all too well.

He continued along the street, soon approaching an alley where the city's homeless had constructed makeshift shelters. The evening news was audible through an open window several floors up, and he caught only the tail end of the report.

"...fellow agent is in stable condition and is expected to make a full recovery."

Wufei stopped, hoping to hear more on the story, but the station was now reporting the weather forecast. He was as sure as his name was Wufei Chang that it was a Preventer who had died and that the one in stable condition was the agent's partner. Wufei stopped at the end of the alley, where a long black curtain had been tacked up, probably to keep the wind from blowing through. He reached out to push it aside, but he felt the bitter coldness before his fingers ever made contact.

"Spirit," he asked, bowing his head. "I do not know what you choose to show me, but please, answer me just one question."

With a swish of the ghost's cloak, they were transported to a graveyard. The tombstone looked new, with no signs of erosion, but the epitaph was concealed by a thin dusting of snow. There were no footprints to show that anyone had been here, nor was there so much as a single flower. Normally Wufei cared little for those sorts of gestures; they were for the living, not for the dead. Today, however, it did mean something. Cold prickles of fear went down his spine as he approached the headstone, but the moment he reached up to brush at the inscription, a gust of wind blew the snow all about him and blocked the graveyard from sight.

When the wind died down, he was in an office, much like the one he occupied now. No one was at the desk, but he'd expected that.

He heard the buzzer followed by the sound of the lock disengaging, and the door opened. Commander Une, looking at least a decade older, walked in. She wasn't alone; someone was behind her. Wufei felt he should warn her, because her companion wore a hood that concealed his face.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but there's nothing I can do right now. You may not agree with me, but you know why we have to keep this under wraps. If they know we're on to them, then everything that's happened will have been for nothing." Her expression softened, and she turned and patted the hooded figure on the arm. "I really am sorry, Wufei."

The future Wufei threw his hood back and strode right past her to the desk, where he swept everything to the floor.

"Wufei!" Une exclaimed.

It did nothing to calm him. If anything, it only fueled his rage, for he stormed about the room, picking up anything within reach and hurling it to the floor or against the wall. Une sat down on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to finish. When he'd made a complete circuit of the room and returned to his desk, he slammed both hands against the now vacant surface and bowed his head.

Une stood up and put an arm over his shoulders, and it appeared as though Future Wufei might be crying.

It dawned on Present Day Wufei then, and he shook his head. "No," he said. "No. If I'm here..."

He didn't need to ask. He was no longer in the office but right back at the headstone. Everything was in proportion, meaning he was back to normal size, and he dropped to his knees in front of the grave. As he used his sleeve to clear away the snow, he prayed he was wrong, but he knew deep in his soul the name of the slain field agent even before it was revealed.

_Here lies Sally Po. A more loyal friend never did live._

"No!" he cried out, pounding his hands against the stone. "It's supposed to be me! I was her partner! I should have had her back! It should have been me!"

A shadow covered Wufei and the tombstone, and he looked up. "Spirit," he choked out. "These are things that have not yet happened, but are not _destined_ to happen. There is no reason why this is the way things are destined to be!"

The spirit did not move, and Wufei overcame his fear and grabbed the end of the sleeve, where a hand should have been. "Please, Spirit! Tell me there is still a chance to prevent this from happening!"

Whatever spirit had inhabited the cloak and given it shape was there no longer, and Wufei was left to kneel over the grave, the robe clutched in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he'd spent wrenching the garment in his hands and sobbing, but when he opened his eyes, the fabric in his grip was the corner of his very own blanket.


	5. Chapter 5

Wufei's hands were trembling as he lifted the blanket up. The sun had risen, for there was light in his bedroom, and he jumped out of bed. The clock read 5:00, and he rushed to his laptop, drumming his fingers on the table as he waited for it to boot. Finally he could take it no longer and ran to the window. He threw it open and leaned outside, where, by some miracle, a lone car was driving slowly down the street. Wufei was near to overjoyed when he saw the woman get out and toss a rolled newspaper up onto the porch across the street.

"Hey! You!" Wufei called down, and the woman looked about him before locating the voice that had called him.

"What? I haven't driven up on anyone's walks," she yel up at him. She pointed out the tire tracks behind her. "See?"

"I don't care about that. Can you tell me what day is today?"

Even from this distance, it appeared as if the paper courier was rolling her eyes. "Christmas Day, all day."

"Then I haven't missed it after all. Thank you!"

He slammed the window shut and turned away, then went back to the window and threw it open again. "Hey!"

She had just opened her car door to get back in, and when she looked up at him this time, it was clear she was beginning to doubt his sanity.

It didn't matter, because Wufei was busy folding a hastily scribbled note into a paper airplane. "Would you deliver this just down the road, at the Preventers building?" Without waiting for an answer, he sent the airplane flying toward the street. He held up a small plastic card. "I'll give you this for your trouble as well." He dropped it straight down, and the woman watched it spiral a few times before it finally hit the ground. She hesitated before picking it up.

"I promise," Wufei said. "This is not a setup and I'm not trying to trick you. Consider it your Christmas tip."

The credits loaded on the card didn't amount to much by Wufei's standards, but it was likely as much as the courier made in a month of delivering papers. She picked up the card, saw the currency amount embossed on the corner, and stuffed it in her pocket before chasing Wufei's message down the street. "I will do that for you, sir! Merry Christmas to you!"

Wufei closed the window again and tore at the buttons of his shirt so he could refasten them properly.

Whenever there was a holiday, Une tried to be fair with scheduling. Those who requested time off she tried to accommodate, and those who had not were scheduled in four to six hour shifts. Une herself always took the earliest shift, so she'd be the one to receive his message.

He rushed through his morning ablutions, skipping the shave altogether and washing his hands and face. He combed his hair with wet fingers, not even ensuring that it would lay flat, and he grabbed his coat and gloves on his way out the door.

It was cold outside, and he felt it all the more with his head still wet, but he'd never felt more alive. This wasn't the same frigidness that emanated from the third spirit. This was the sort of cold that he could feel tingling his skin from the outside in rather than the other way around.

The coffee shop he passed every day was closed for the holiday, but it did give him an idea. When he reached the Preventers building and made his way to Une's office, she looked up in surprise until she realized it was Wufei.

"I got your message," she said, gesturing to a wet and crumpled scrap of paper on her desk. "But as I told you yesterday, you don't have to come in until noon."

"I know," he said.

She nodded, looking at him with something akin to pity. "Yes," she said. "You do." She gestured at a stack of mini-disks at the edge of her desk. "If you insist on staying, these intercepted messages need to be deciphered. Heero is our best cryptologist, but..." she trailed off and gave a little shrug. "Well, since he's not on Preventers payroll, I can hardly ask him to do this for me today. If you're up to it, I could use the help." She turned back to her computer terminal.

Wufei set down one of the coffees he purchased from the downstairs vending machine. "It's no mocha latte," he said apologetically, "but Merry Christmas."

Une's fingers slipped off the computer screen where she'd been sorting through field reports. She looked at the steam coming up from the paper cup and then at Wufei.

"Thank you, Wufei," she said. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

He left her to her work and went to his office. After setting the second cup of coffee on his desk, he turned on the computer and removed one of the mini-disks from its case. By the time he'd gone through all the messages on the first three disks, he could see why Une wanted to call Heero in on this. These had not been written using a simple replacement code. Even with all the intercepted messages they had to work with, there was no consistency to the characters used, which meant that they'd likely been created using a machine based cryptographic system. He tried using the computer to simulate the machines they had in their database, but he lacked the experience that Heero had with breaking allegedly unsolvable codes.

He sat back in his chair. Heero's only connection to the Preventers was as a free lance consultant. Heero's obvious disdain toward routine and procedure was something Wufei had always viewed as a reckless bohemian lifestyle. It was that rigidity of thinking that had driven Meiran to distraction during their time together.

Wufei rubbed at his eyes. It had been a long, tiring night. He glanced at the little clock in the corner of his computer screen and saw that it was nearly 8:00. He snatched the coffee off his desk and strode down the hall to the library.

She wasn't there, nor was she at her desk when he checked there.

He returned to Une's office, where he found her poring over a schematic instead of packed up and ready to leave for the day.

"I thought Sally was relieving you at eight."

"She was," Une replied without looking up. "But that was before." She did glance at Wufei then. "That's right, you weren't there last night so you wouldn't know. She's fine," Une assured him hurriedly. "She just slipped on the ice and-"

There was no need to finish her explanation, because Wufei was already out the door. The thunk of a full coffee cup hitting the bottom of the wastebasket would normally be reason for annoyance, because she really hated when people failed to empty out their cups before tossing them out. Today, however, she merely smiled, picked up the message Wufei had sent earlier that morning, and smoothed the wrinkles from it.

She'd suspected something like this five years ago, but it was nice to be proven right.

* * *

Wufei walked for several blocks before realizing he would make better time if he hailed a cab. He was in the middle of dialing one of the local taxi services when a sleek black limousine pulled up beside him. The back window rolled down, and Quatre Winner's head peeked out.

"Wufei!" he exclaimed. "Can we give you a lift?"

Wufei shoved his phone in his pocket and wasted no time opening the door. To his surprise, Quatre wasn't alone. Trowa was seated next to him, and Heero and Duo were on the seat perpendicular to theirs. Wufei sat across from the latter two, nearly losing his balance as the limo pulled away from the curb.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Duo asked. "Maybe taking in the sights?"

Trowa gestured toward the sidewalk. "He's not kidding. That's what we're doing."

Wufei turned to look out the window. He'd noticed, but he'd never really looked, at the decorations in the storefronts. Many were trimmed with traditional holly and berries, and a few more used silver and white snowflakes to simulate a winter wonderland. There was one, however, that looked like an act of vandalism. It was a shoe store, but the shoes in the window appeared to have been thrown about haphazardly. It wasn't until they'd nearly passed the shop that Wufei figured it out. They were dancing; or rather, they had been situated in various poses as if there were invisible dancers in the window. If he'd not been here and his friends had tried to explain it to him, he wouldn't have been able to picture it. The scene felt _alive_.

They pulled up in front of a simple brownstone apartment building, and Wufei had the door open even before they came to a complete stop. He had one foot on the ground and his head and shoulders out the door when he looked back. He looked at his friends, at the faces of each one of them, and he felt their shared excitement.

"Merry Christmas," he said. "and thanks."

After the door slammed shut behind him and they watched Wufei run up the steps to the main entrance, Duo asked, "And how did we know he was coming here?"

Quatre held up his cell phone, showing the text message he'd received from Une. "Modern technology. It's a wonderful thing."

Wufei was inside the building before the limo pulled away, punching at the elevator button impatiently. The digital readout over the elevator door didn't appear to be working and he had no idea what floor it was on, and after tapping his foot and pacing back and forth, he was tired of waiting and ran to the stairwell.

Six flights and the length of the hallway later, he'd reached Number 703. He was breathing hard and he leaned one hand against the wall to prop himself up as he lifted the knocker and rapped it several times.

He could hear movement inside, but it was a while before the door finally opened. The reason for the delay was apparent the moment he saw her. Sally's right leg was in a cast. Fortunately it was below the knee; a break in the femur would not only have been excruciatingly painful, it would have made it next to impossible for her to move around.

"Wufei," she said. "This is a surprise."

"What the hell happened?" he asked, sweeping her up in his arms and kicking the door closed behind him. He deposited her gently on the sofa, making sure her broken leg was propped up on a pillow, and sat on the edge of the cushion next to her.

"It happened when I was leaving Relena's party," she said. "I hit a patch of ice out front and slid into a car."

Wufei's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Une hadn't mentioned anything about a car being involved. He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "It's not like you to be so clumsy," he said, then mentally kicked himself for the insult.

Sally's cheeks turned slightly pink. "I might have had a little more to drink than I'm used to. We were in a celebratory mood."

Wufei waved his hand in the air impatiently. "I don't think either Noin or Mariemaia wanted you to get so hammered over their news that you got hit by a car."

Sally's cheeks had gone from pink to bright red. "For your information, I was not hammered. I had three drinks. I was...buzzed. And if you'd really wanted to monitor my alcoholic consumption" she said, poking him hard in the chest and nearly knocking him off the couch. "You should have gotten off your ass and join-"

Her words were cut off by Wufei's lips against hers. She splayed her fingers against his chest in protest, but when he tilted his head slightly and deepened the kiss, she found it hard to remember why this was a bad idea.

The stubble on his face was rubbing her cheeks, reminding her how he looked first thing in the morning. Her fingers crept behind his head to curl in the hair at his nape. She'd forgotten how soft it was when he wore it loose like this, and she shivered when his hand covered her breast. His thumb rubbed against her nipple, causing it to harden, and she twirled a lock of his hair around her finger and tugged as hard as she could, pulling Wufei's head with it. They were both panting heavily when their lips broke contact.

"Wufei, I can't do this again."

He reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "Sally..."

"No." She shook her head but did not meet his eyes. "We've been down this road before. This," she pulled her hand free and gestured between them. "is not real. I appreciate your coming here to check on me, but this is not going to work out because-"

"I love you."

"-misplaced guilt. I- what?"

"I love you." He got down on one knee and clasped her hand in both of his. "I was an ass..."

"To put it mildly," she murmured.

He ignored her. "...and a bully, and an insensitive prick. I was afraid. Not," he rushed ahead, "of you, or of loving you, but of losing you."

"You're losing me now," she said, but she was smiling, and her eyes were shining brightly.

"I'm just a man," he told her, "and I've made mistakes, but the biggest mistake I could make now would be to let you go without a fight."

She shook her head, afraid if she said anything, she'd begin to cry.

"Sally, you're one of the strongest women I know, and you deserve better, but I can't imagine living the rest of my life without you by my side."

She wasn't sure if it that was Wufei's idea of a marriage proposal, but it was definitely the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her, and it was coming from the least romantic man in the universe. Wufei wasn't the only one who was afraid, but there weren't a lot of second chances in life.

"OK," she said, nodding. "OK."

It was just one year later, on New Year's Eve, when she knew what Wufei's idea of a marriage proposal was. He asked her at the First Annual Preventers New Year's party, an event that he'd not only suggested to Une but had chaired the committee for. She'd known what she was getting into when she slid the ring on her finger, but Wufei was already pushing his luck by taking away her glass of champagne at the stroke of midnight.

"I was about to drink that," she protested.

He shushed her with a quick kiss and spun her around just so he could pull her close, her back pressed against his chest. They stayed that way as the fireworks began, and at some point, Wufei slid his hand down to her belly, caressing it lightly with his thumb.

A series of Roman candles lit up the sky, followed by several red dahlias. When the finale was over and the last flicker had faded to nothing, there was a round of applause, followed by the honks and squeals of the noisemakers that had been provided for each guest.

Sally hadn't realized how lost in her own little world she'd been until Quatre Winner, who had apparently been standing next to them the whole time, lifted his champagne glass.

"To new beginnings," he said, and everyone who still had a glass raised theirs to toast the sentiment.

Sally could still feel the warmth of Wufei's fingers pressing against her abdomen. His proposal had taken her by surprise. Each time they'd been intimate, they'd been almost militant in their precautions, so despite the gesture, there was no honorable, hopelessly outdated reason for him to have popped the question.

Wufei nuzzled the side of her head, a sign of affection that was over almost as soon as it had begun. The sound of an infant crying caught her attention and she looked over to where Noin and Zechs were standing. They were oblivious to everyone else, cooing over their son who had clearly not enjoyed the fireworks as much as everyone else.

On their other side, one of the guests, the husband of one of the physical trainers, stumbled over the leg of a chair. He knocked Wufei's elbow as he tried to steady himself and upturned the half full champagne glass. Some of it spilled down the back of Sally's dress; the rest splashed somewhere between them. Sally heard the distinct sound of liquid hitting leather, meaning Wufei's shoes had taken the brunt of it. She'd picked them out for him from a shop not far from the Preventers building and given them to him for Christmas. For some reason he'd insisted on saving them for the party tonight, and now they were likely ruined. Sally waved away the man's apologies and turned to snag the now empty glass away from her fiance. She placed it the stone ledge near the doors, not noticing when it wobbled and fell into the bushes. She was too busy taking Wufei's hand, damp with champagne, and placing it right below her rib cage. He kissed the edge of her earlobe and she felt the prick of happy tears behind her eyelids. She leaned back, trusting him to support her weight, and gave his fingers a squeeze.

_To new beginnings._


End file.
